The Beginning of the Quest

Morraine looked over her shoulder at the Long Lost Boys trailing behind her, and then she lay her hand on the hilt of the sword. It pulsed under her touch, keeping time with her heartbeat. "It will respond only to you," Rumpelstiltskin had said that day in the tavern. She mouthed the words to herself, and again she contemplated contacting the imp. Where would he be now? she wondered. What would he be doing? Would he be thinking of Bae or trying to move on with his life?

Of course he'd be looking for Bae, she reasoned. That was his whole reason for existing after...Morraine hadn't been able to figure out what terms to think of the incident in. Either Rumpelstiltskin dropped Bae on accident, or he let Bae go, but either way, whenever she saw him and tried to get information out of him, he refused to say a word.

Strange, she thought, not for the first time. Any other person he would've choked with the force of his mind and magic. To her, all he did was say nothing. Did he refuse to threaten her because of Bae?

The snap of a twig jerked her out of her thoughts, and she stopped the boys and pressed a finger to her lips. She turned back to the source of the sound, her hand still on the hilt of the sword, and then she took a step forward. The sound came again, closer this time. Come at me, she thought. I'm ready, and I'm going to win or die trying. A third twig snapped, and Morraine drew the sword. She held it level, her eye and hand steady.

A three-headed beast ten feet tall emerged from the trees and roared with all three of its sets of vocal chords. She closed her eyes against the wind but otherwise didn't flinch. "What do we do?" one of the boys asked, shrinking close behind one of his companions.

"Hush," Morraine whispered in reply. She eyed her new adversary. "What is this thing?"

"A nightmare creature," another boy replied. "We're as good as dead. We'll never get out of here."

"Hush. Just answer my questions and shut up. I've been tied to a tree for the past three hundred years, anyway, so I know a thing or two about being trapped. We're not trapped."

The beast sniffed at her with its middle nose, and she studied its beady eyes. Then she cut off the middle head and stepped aside as it landed with a dull thud amidst the leaves. The other two heads looked at each other as if they were confused, and then they turned to her and snarled. Morraine stared at the spot where the middle head should have been. "Shouldn't the head have grown back, just like in our nightmares?" she asked.

"Well, yes," a Long Lost Boy replied.

Morraine glanced at the blade, mostly covered in glowing crimson blood. The blade itself shone like the moon. "Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered, smiling softly and shaking her head. Then she made short work of the other two heads. The beast stumbled and then collapsed, and she wiped the sword off on the skirt of her dress, sheathed it, and started down their path yet again. The Long Lost Boys exchanged awed whispers behind her.

Morraine remembered suddenly that Rumpelstiltskin had given her the means to protect Baelfire from anything and everything. She also realized she probably always had the means to communicate with him, even if she didn't know what they were or how to use them. "Just get out of here first," she told herself. Just get out of here first.

OUAT

Bae turned off the beaten path and took a shortcut to the old Frontlands village. Though the forest was thicker than he remembered, it still brought back old memories: his father's attempt to flee with him, their meeting a beggar, his father becoming the Dark One, his father letting him go. It all happened in this forest.

He took a deep breath and continued on, part of his mind alert to the sounds of game he could shoot for food. Even the slightest sound made him pause, so he was sure to investigate when, when he finally came upon the village, he found it littered with bodies all arranged in neat rows. His mind immediately went to human involvement: mass murder. Questions: who, how, and why?

He pulled his bow off his back and one arrow from his quiver, and then he approached the village and the rows of bodies. Who would leave this arrangement after a killing spree? It looked like someone who was meticulous. A boy couldn't have done this, certainly not someone who'd been a boy for centuries, not a boy who wanted always to be a boy and have fun. This was the work of someone who wanted something and was willing to go to any and all lengths to get it. Now, who would want such a thing that badly, and what did they want?

The village itself was as barely-intact as he remembered, but he could easily find his old shack, right next to Morraine's. He turned away from the carnage and approached the center of the village.

But the more he advanced, the more he was overcome by the impression that he, but a lad of fifteen, was the only person alive.

There were people here, he thought suddenly. These people, in these eerily neat rows, were once alive. Was this another haven? Or was the haven larger than he had been told? Either way, it was no longer safe. He kept his bow ready.

He approached what was once his home and nudged the door open with his foot. Then he peered inside to find the shack empty even of furniture and the air full of dust. Of course. His father had abandoned this place after he became the Dark One.

He closed the door behind him and went over to the shack that was Morraine's. It was in a similar state of disuse, but at least it had furniture.

He closed this door and crossed the street to the house the Dark One had taken for himself. This building he found also empty of furniture. He sighed and turned to face the street. A brown-haired woman in black stood before him, smirking at him over her shoulder, which was angled toward him. So he wasn't the only living person at this village after all. Was this woman a visitor, too?

She flicked her wrist, and he dove onto the cobblestones. Maybe this was the killer of all those people, he thought. He drew the bow and fired, and with a wave of the hand, she reduced the arrow to dust and ashes. He strapped the bow to his back and turned to run. A blast of energy hit him square in the back, and he tumbled end over end before coming to rest in the dirt off the side of the road. He inhaled sharply and struggled to push himself up. His arms shook underneath him, and he stared up at the woman. She was still smiling.

He rolled onto his side, still staring at her. She studied him as if...interested? Did she have a use for him? Was he going to live?

Bae suddenly sprang forward and took off, but he felt another magic blast on his back. He tripped over himself and stumbled into the forest, ducking behind a tree and waiting. Waiting for any sign that the woman was approaching him. Waiting in hope for any sign that she had decided to let him go.

For a long moment, he heard and sensed nothing. Gingerly, he peeked out from behind the trunk. The village beyond was deserted so far as he could see. He dipped back into his hiding place and listened and kept his mind and senses open. Finally he satisfied himself that that witch had gone, and he walked down the path leading out of the village.